In the Lair of the Dragon
by Merope-Malfoy
Summary: "While you can still call home the place where your mother's blood dwells, there you cannot be harmed by Voldemort." But what happens when the Blood Wards at Number Four Privet Drive suddenly collapse, leaving Harriet Potter in the care of her most hated professor? (Severitus/ Female Harry)
1. Chapter 1

A/N. So I've had this idea in mind for a while now. It feels good to have finally put it down on paper. I would really appreciate feedback! Thanks and enjoy! :)

Oh, I almost forgot: J.K. Rowling owns everything except for this particular plot. There are two bits marked with *. These are not my creation, they are taken either from the Harry Potter books or movies.

Some things to bear in mind when reading this: 1) Harry Potter is actually Harriet Potter (female). 2) The narrative takes place before the beginning of 6th year.

* * *

**Chapter One: The Brat-Who-Lived**

It was a rusty summer evening. The bright orange sky diffused into a watery purple as the last bit of sun disappeared into the horizon. The unbearable heat of the day was somewhat subdued with the first evening breeze, as the last little boy playing outside Number Four Privet Drive was called in by his mother for supper.

As if reading her mind, a loud, groused sound came from Harriet's stomach. Choosing to ignore the noise she was so accustomed to, she re-focused her eyes on the darkening horizon and tried to think of _absolutely nothing_. Placing her forehead on the window-pane, she readjusted her glasses and wondered just how on earth she was supposed to survive the next couple of weeks with the Dursleys. This summer had been particularly bad. Apart from the customary chores she was expected to do around the house in no time, Harriet Potter had also found herself on the receiving end of Vernon's wrath. Even Petunia seemed to avoid him around the house since he had been made redundant, a fact that Harriet was openly blamed for every other day. _You ungrateful brat, we took you off the streets, put a roof over your head and you repay us by infesting our lives with your freakishness?_ And a few weeks later it got worse. Aunt Marge was on the way to see the Dursleys when she crashed her car into a tree and died later in hospital. It so happened that Harriet had been in the vicinity of the living room when Vernon hung up the telephone. _It's not enough that you financially crucified us, no; you had to go ahead and kill Marge with your aberrations, just like you blew her up last time! You're not worthy of breathing the same air as us, you filthy little monster! _She tried to run when Vernon started undoing his belt, but his hand clenched in her hair and effortlessly dragged her upstairs to _shake the freakishness out of her. _Harriet could still feel some of the angrier welts on her back and thighs and she still flinched when she sat down. But despite all this the summer had gone by rather quickly and in two weeks she would be back _home._

And yet, her approaching departure to Hogwarts did not enchant the customary sparks of happiness within her. There would no letters from_ him_ this year. No packages, no hope that maybe next summer she would live with somebody that _actually cared_ about her. The nightmares had also been significantly worse since the incident in the Department of Mysteries. They tended to start off with Cedric falling dead, but quickly metamorphosed to Sirius falling through The Veil, over and over each night in a sadistic replay of painful memories; then came the screaming, the kicking and sometimes even Vernon's backhand if she screamed particularly loudly and woke him up. Eventually, the lack of proper food and much water ensured that she was too weak to scream or cry too loudly.

_It was all her fault that Sirius had died._ If only she had kept Voldemort out of her head, if only she had tried harder at Legilimency, he would still be alive and she would not be an emotional mess. But she knew she deserved the sadistic pain she was enduring. She deserved every single tear to burn through her cheek and into her soul. _They had all died because of her._ Her parents, her godfather, Cedric; Harriet couldn't help but wonder with dread who would be next. Ron? Hermione? She swallowed back a mortified sob as Hedwig gave her a sorrowful look, followed by a hungry screech.

"I'm sorry Hedwig….you know I can't!" whispered Harriet. "Two more weeks and we'll be free," she said not quite sure if she was talking to the owl or to herself.

* * *

Severus Snape brought his goblet to his lips with calculated accuracy. _Far too sweet,_ he thought as Dumbledore, who was sitting at his office, smiled at the clearly disgusted look on his face. "Ah, my dear Severus," he said lightly, "I take it you are not accustomed with Mead," he said cheerfully, finishing his goblet in two sips. "Fabulous muggle drink; fermented honey is a delight of the heart, or as some call it, nectar of the gods."

Severus wanted to say something _rather dissimilar_ about delights of the heart but abstained, maintaining a neutral expression and hoping that Dumbledore had not summoned him at such a late hour simply to acquaint him with his bizarre taste in beverages. A certain number of painted previous headmasters and headmistresses eyed Dumbledore a little skeptically as his goblet refilled hastily. Just when Snape thought he would be offered a lemon drop, Dumbledore's expression became rather somber and far too serious for his liking. "I'm afraid I have some rather bad news, Severus," he said seriously, pouring himself another goblet of Mead. Snape simply raised his eyebrows in a questioning glare as if Dumbledore was merely making a comment about the weather forecast. He was far too accustomed to bad news to be surprised by the Headmaster's increasingly customary somber voice and wondered what on earth the old man would get him into this time.

"It has come to my attention earlier today that the blood wards at Number Four Privet Drive have unexpectedly fallen sometime last week," said Dumbledore gravely.

Okay, _this_, he had not expected. _This _was actually serious because it meant that once again, the ungrateful brat was in trouble and therefore Snape had to _do something_ about it. If he had known that James Potter's spawn would cause so much trouble he would have castrated the idiot himself.

"And what, _pray tell me_, could have possibly led to that, Albus?" asked Snape in an acrimonious tone that did not betray his distaste of any subject revolving around the _famous girl who lived_.

"My guess is a drastic change in Harriet's emotions about her living situation," replied Dumbledore, his black hand stroking his long beard pensively.

"So the brat simply decided that her living situation is suddenly inadequate?" he asked in enraged disbelief. _Oh the cheek the girl possessed_. After all the sacrifices other has made for her she suddenly decided, out of her stupid thirst for attention, that she _just didn't want to_ live there anymore?

"Now, now Severus, you know as well as I do that blood wards only work if Harriet considers Privet Drive her home. Something quite drastic must have occurred for such a change to ensure."

"Yes, her enraged thirst for attention," he spat. "She probably views that muggle dwelling unfit for someone as famous as she!" said Snape no longer attempting to conceal his anger and disgust at the news.

"I'm sure that if you took time to get to know the girl your prejudiced opinions about her would change quite drastically," said Dumbledore with a slight smile as though he could see something that Snape did not.

"My opinions are _not_ prejudiced! She is just like her dear father! In fact", he said as his voice became silkier, "she is far worse. She possesses no measurable talent, her arrogance rivals even that of her father and she seems to relish in her fame*." Dumbledore was still smiling by the time Snape finished his sentence, an observation which made the latter's eyebrows furrow in annoyance.

"Perhaps, my dear boy, what you are about to be assigned will change your rigid view of Harriet. She really is quite lovely once you get to know her."

"And what would that be?" he asked in a sardonically polite voice.

"It is obvious enough that Harriet would be in grave danger should she remain at Number Four Privet Drive while the blood wards are down. Naturally, the safest place for her is here at Hogwarts. Lemon drop?" he asked extending a small bowl to Severus who declined with a scornful "No, _thank you."_

_"_They really are quite nice," said Dumbledore as he took his time to chew the sweet while Snape's patience was really beginning to run short. "I want you to collect Harriet from her relatives and bring her to Hogwarts," he finally said matter-of-factly as Snape clenched his jaw almost audibly.

"Why can't _the wolf_ do it?" he spat angrily. What did Dumbledore take him for, the brat's personal escort?

"I'm afraid our dear friend Lupin has taken Sirius's death rather hard. He is quite distracted at the moment." Snape wanted to say something _not too nice_ about their _dear friend Lupin_ but decided against it.

"Why not, then, a member of the vast Weasley family? Surely they are better suited—"

"I already made up my mind, Severus. There is no one better suited than you. Besides, it is my wish for the girl to continue her Occlumency lessons before the start of the new school year."

"As you wish," said Snape coldly hoping that his duties would end there.

_Oh but no_.

"I also believe that the girl should not be staying alone in Gryffindor Tower during the remainder of the holidays. I already instructed a house elf to prepare the spare room in your quarters," he said quite simply. Within seconds, Snape was on his feet, his black eyes drilling holes into Dumbledore's forehead, his hands metamorphosing into fists.

"No," he said in a silky, poisonous voice.

"I did not ask for permission, Severus," said Dumbledore calmly. "Now please sit back down and let us continue this conversation in a civil manner," he said as Snape's goblet filled once more with Mead. Severus shot the Headmaster a murderous glare as he sat back down.

"We both know that this is your duty—"

"It is not _my duty_ to _live _with Potter's spawn!" he spat bitterly.

"But you must, Severus. I will be away from Hogwarts on some rather important errands. She would not be as safe in Gryffindor Tower by herself as she would be in your quarters where you can keep an eye on her. You know she has a tendency to fall in harm's way."

"I beg to differ, Albus. She has a tendency of_ deliberately_ finding trouble!"

"Perhaps," agreed Dumbledore, "but this simply reinforces my previous point. You must ensure her safety for the duration of the summer holidays. You owe this to Lily," he finished as Snape's features erupted in pain for mere seconds before adopting the customary mask of neutrality.

"Don't!" he said warningly. "She has _nothing _to do with this."

"My dear boy, but she has everything to do with this. We are discussing her daughter after all. Surely you can overlook her striking resemblance to James and see that part of Lily lives on in Harriet's green eyes."

"She is nothing like Lily," spat Snape as if his beloved had been insulted.

"She is more like Lily than you would like to admit, Severus," said Dumbledore patiently. "You promised to keep her safe. We must ensure that Lily's sacrifice was not in vain."

Snape said nothing more of the torturous task he had been given by Albus, who was not eating another lemon drop. But Dumbledore did not, _could not_, understand the agony he felt every time he saw the eyes of his beloved piercing at him from the hated face of his worst enemy, _his rival_. "Very well," he eventually said in his customary cold voice as he stood up and made his way towards the door of the Headmaster's office, his black cloak giving him the appearance of an overgrown bat. "But I must warn you not to expect her to receive any special treatment from me. She _will _follow my rules and should she break them there will be _consequences_. I will not put up with her arrogance or her cheek."

"I knew you'd come around, Severus," said Dumbledore in a pleased tone. "But you must try to be at least a little gentler with her. She has been a little shaken by her godfather's sudden death."

"With all due respect Albus, but if you wanted someone to be _gentle_ with the brat, you should have taken her in yourself," he said in an ear-blistering voice that hinted slight impatience. Dumbledore said nothing more, but his eyes twinkled ever so slightly behind his half-moon spectacles as Snape disappeared out of the office with heavy steps.

* * *

Petunia Dursley's unexpected shriek made Harriet jump out of her skin. The bread knife she was vigorously trying to scrub dug into her palm and the sink acquired a few drops of crimson red. She barely had time to swear under her breath when her aunt walked briskly into the kitchen ordering Harriet to "Go and pack! Someone's here to collect you!"

"Who?" she asked as she bandaged her injured hand with an old napkin as Petunia gave her a revolted look.

"Watch out with that blood! I don't want you contaminating the house!" she spat and, turning on her heels, departed from the kitchen, seemingly oblivious to Harriet's question. Heading out of the kitchen herself, Harriet peeked at the hallway, but there was no one there waiting for her. She did not fret however. After all, she knew the Dursleys would never voluntarily welcome a witch or wizard into their home. So as quickly as she could with a bleeding hand, Harriet shoved all her belongings into her Hogwarts trunk, took hold of Hedwig's cage and headed downstairs. Without a second thought, she opened the door positively beaming at the thought of her premature escape from Privet Drive when she saw _him. _

"Snape?" He was facing the other way, tall and dark as ever, his hands behind him. Upon hearing his name, he abruptly turned on his heels to stare at _the brat_ with a mixture of sternness and annoyance.

"Potter," he snapped. "Late as always."

"Why are you here?" she asked abruptly, not attempting to hide the contempt in her voice. Snape simply raised an eyebrow at her interrogative question.

"I am escorting you back to Hogwarts," he said coldly, his black obsidian eyes taking in her appearance. _Far too thin_, he thought as he contemplated upon her heavy eye bags for a moment.

"Back to Hogwarts?"

"How very perceptive you are, Potter," said Snape with a faint sneer. "Yes, back to Hogwarts where you will remain until the start of term."

"Why?" Harriet asked thoroughly confused. Why would Dumbledore not send her to the Burrow instead, where she could be in the company of people she actually_ liked? _"Why didn't Dumbledore come to collect me? Why you?" she said suspiciously as Snape took a few irritated steps towards her.

"Not that it is any of your concern, but _Professor _Dumbledore is away on important errands. Now cease this nonsensical questioning and take my arm!" he snapped, extending his arm towards Harriet.

"Take-_take your arm_?"

"Unless you wish to splinch yourself in an attempt to apparate alone, and believe me I would be_ very_ sympathetic if that were the case, then stop wasting my time with your senseless comments and do as you are told!" he snapped in an ear-blistering tone as Harriet hurriedly grabbed his arm.

Within seconds, Harriet found herself being pressed hard from all directions in a bottomless, black vacuum. To her horror, her hand squeezed that of her professor even tighter as she felt her lungs being compressed and deprived of air. Just when she thought she was close to being condensed to death, her surroundings materialized, her lungs filled once more with air and the compression ceased. The nausea, however, did not, as she found herself on all fours, throwing up the very scarce content of her stomach.

"Charming, Potter," said Snape sourly as his eyes pondered inquisitively for a few seconds upon Harriet's lack of dinner content.

"You could have warned me!" she said reproachfully as she stood up wobbling on her feet, wiping her mouth with her sleeve. Snape simply smirked as he said: "Yes, I could have," and without further ado, he started making his way towards the castle, gesturing for Harriet to follow him. She did so, wishing that looks could kill. _Just this once._

"Hey, why are we going to the dungeons?" she asked when the corridor became darker, the stairs steeper and the temperature colder. At first, Harriet thought Snape would not dignify her question with an answer, but to her surprise, he responded in his customary impassive voice. "It is the Headmaster's belief that it would be safer for you to remain in my quarters as opposed to Gryffindor Tower until the commencement of term."

"Live…_live_ with_ you_?" she asked seemingly oblivious to the fact that her feet stopped of their own accord. She simply started at Snape's black cloak in shock.

"Yes, Potter, that is what I said," he responded without turning.

"No. No bloody way!" she snapped. Snape abruptly turned on his heels, looking at the _spawn-who-lived_ with a mixture of annoyance and humour. _Of course she is bound to make a scene,_ he thought.

"Language Potter!" he reproved, but Harriet's eyebrows only furrowed together even more. _This cannot be happening,_ she thought in annoyance. Why would Dumbledore of all people make her stay with the greasy bat? She was almost certain that battling a Hippogriff with her bare hands would be simpler than living with Snape for two torturous weeks. "No!" she repeated in annoyance, feeling very much betrayed. "I will not live with you."

"Believe me, this is certainly not my ideal situation either. However, given the circumstances there is, regretfully, no alternative." His black obsidian eyes bore into Harriet for a moment as he pondered upon the gravity of the situation. The more he thought about it, the angrier he became with the four eyed copy of James Potter. He furrowed his eyebrows as the girl showed no sign of remorse. _How very typical,_ he thought, _so much like her father._

"What are you talking about? What circumstances?" she asked forgetting her annoyance for a minute as she eyed him in confusion. "Why can't I just stay with the Dursleys?"

"Do you take pride in your ignorance, Potter?" he asked in a sour voice that sent chills down Harriet's spine. Her confusion simply increased. Snape seemed to imply that the situation she found herself in was her own fault and yet she could not recall having done anything that would necessitate her removal from her Dursleys. Unless Dumbledore _and therefore Snape_ knew what Vernon _did_, a thought which made her face a few shades paler. When she did not respond, Snape continued in an ear blistering tone. "Or are you so self-absorbed that you find yourself unable to account for your actions? After everything others have done for your safety, _this_ is how you repay them? By endangering yourself out of your cry for attention? You selfish girl!" he snapped and for the first time that night looked positively livid. Harriet instinctively took a step back, her eyes wide, her cheeks flushing red. "What was it this time, Potter?" continued Snape, closing the space between them by taking a step in her direction. "What stupidity did you engage in to make the blood ward collapse?"

"The blood wards collapsed?" she asked shakily, wandering green eyes searching his face for some sort of answer. But Snape's eyebrows only furrowed together more, the permanent line between them seemingly becoming deeper. "I didn't do anything!" she added when his facial expression spelled out I-will-chop-you-up-and-boil-you-in-your-own-cauldron.

"Yes, you are as _innocent_ as your swine of a father ever was!" he snapped and, getting hold of her arm, led her briskly into the dungeons without another word.

* * *

Harriet would never admit that a room in Snape's quarters could ever be described as _nice_, but truthfully, it really was. There was a single bed, an enchanted window with a view of the Dark Lake, a desk and a wardrobe. The customary stone floor was covered by a green rug and her school trunk was neatly placed next to the bed.

Snape has said nothing else once they arrived in his quarters. He simply dismissed her to her room with a gesture of his hand and retreated to his vast library. So Harriet had been sitting on the edge of the bed for almost an hour and a half, pondering upon the peculiarity of the evening. She did not fully comprehend the magic behind Dumbledore's blood wards, yet she had a fair idea as to why they had collapsed.

_While you can still call home the place where your mother's blood dwells, there you cannot be touched or harmed by Voldemort.* _That was what Dumbledore had told her, anyway. So in a sense, Snape had been right. It was her fault that the blood wards at Privet Drive had collapsed because she could no longer pretend the place was _home_. Not after this summer anyway. But she thought she'd rather die than give Snape yet another weapon to use against her. Knowing the man, he would probably smirk in her face if he found out of Vernon's treatment of her. _Finally somebody who sees you for who you are,_ she almost heard him say.

Barely six minutes later, Harriet groaned at the heavy knock on the door, followed by "Dinner, Potter. Now!" Careful to avoid giving the man any further reason to snap at her, Harriet quickly made her way into Snape's dining area and sat down at the table, a vague expression of hunger flashing upon her face. _Dinner with the devil, _she thought and almost recoiled at how much Snape's draconian expression befitted her thought. With a bit of luck, the dinner could pass without the exchange of snide comments or even in the absence of conversation, she hoped. But then again, it wasn't as if she had ever conversed with the bat. The few times they exchanged words, Harriet had found herself at the receiving end of his ear-blistering remarks and reproving comments.

But when had Harriet Potter ever been so lucky as to get her way?

"What happened to your hand?" asked Snape, giving her napkin bandaged hand a suspicious look.

"I cut myself accidentally when doing the dishes," she replied knowing full well what Snape was about to say. _Three, two—_

_One._ "So your serious lack of concentration extends beyond the Potions classroom," he said with a faint sneer. "How surprising."

"Actually," replied Harriet's mouth before her better judgment had time to step in, "If your greasy hair wouldn't have reduced my aunt to shrieking, I would not have been startled when handling the bread knife and my hand would now be okay. So to prevent such accidents in the future, I suggest you wash your hair more often!"

_Oh shit, _thought Harriet as the realization of what she just said started to sink in.

"How very much like your beloved father and godfather you are, Potter. They too were sentimental children blaming others for their mistakes and their stupidity, unwilling to account for their foolhardy actions." Harriet's stomach turned upside down at the mention of Sirius and she wished nothing more than to hide under a rock and let the emotional tornado that was to form pass without noticing her. As it was, she found herself into the company of her most hated professor, having to account for things she did not particularly want to think about. "Let me see," commanded Snape as his obsidian-like eyes fell once more upon her hand.

"It'll be fine, I don't need your help," said Harriet sourly, taking her injured hand out of Snape's view and fidgeting with a corner of the bloodied napkin under the table, trying to ignore the tingling protests of her injury.

"As you wish. I'm sure the wizardry world will think no less of the _Chosen One_ if she were to lose a hand," replied Snape with a cold smirk.

"It's not even infected!" protested Harriet in an agitated voice as Snape's words metamorphosed into disturbing images in her head.

"I beg to differ. Your jaundiced skin, the sweat on your brow and I presume your fever too, tell a different story.

"Fine!" she snapped, placing her hand once more onto the table as if it were a diary she did not want Snape to read.

"Temper Potter," he reproved as he started undoing the napkin bandage with, to Harriet's shock, surprisingly gentle hands. He frowned a little at how deep the bread knife managed to cut into the girl's skin. Just as he thought, the small amounts of yellow pus located at the corners of the cut indicated the commencement of an infection. "This will sting," he warned coldly as he rubbed a generous amount of cleaning balm onto the cut. Harriet did not flinch, or acknowledge the pain in any way. She simply watched Snape work hastily onto her palm, applying various salves and making her drink a couple of bitter tasting potions. His ministrations had been those of a healer and the end result did not even leave the trace of a subtle scar.

"Err…thanks," said Harriet rather awkwardly. Snape simply nodded once as an uncomfortable silence loomed over them, only to be broken a few minutes later by the professor's sour "Go to bed, Potter!"

Harriet did not wait to be told twice. Grateful to escape from the bat's company, she hurried to her room and closed the door with a sigh of relief.


	2. Chapter 2

Severus Snape imbibed a rather generous sip of his Firewhiskey, hoping that it will forever erase the memory of Dumbledore's Mead. The hands of a slight headache (no doubt caused by Potter's spawn) pulled at his temples and he was forced to put down the Potions Almanac he had hoped to finish that evening. Black eyes resembling obsidian mirrors pondered upon the fire for a moment and he couldn't help but wonder just how on earth he of all people ended up having to look after the brat. Why couldn't Dumbledore have gotten someone else to do the job? Somebody who actually _liked_ Potter? Why not mother hen Weasley instead? Surely she was immensely more maternal than he.

He cast a quick look towards the spare room but there was no sign the brat was still awake. The faint light underneath the door had disappeared in the past half hour or so and everything seemed still. He sighted in relief, sipped his last bit of Firewhiskey and stood up deciding to retreat for the night. The Dark Mark on his arm had been tingling for days now, and the customary strain on his body was becoming more noticeable than he liked to admit. He would be summoned soon, no doubt. Voldemort was becoming increasingly displeased with his followers, something he liked to highlight through his excessive use of the Cruciatus Curse. As he retreated in the enveloping darkness of his bedchamber, he made a mental note to brew more phials of Calming Draught in the morning.

He saw Lily that night. Standing tall and straight in front of him, cold and distant like a concrete statue. He had not dreamt of her in years, mostly because of the Dreamless Sleep his life forced him to depend on, but also because he had locked away all memories of her for times when he was vulnerable to his own emotions. Nevertheless, because of the nature of his work for Dumbledore and Voldemort alike, those times were incredibly rare. He did not feel particularly vulnerable that precise evening; however, he later guessed it must have had something to do his earlier conversation with the headmaster. For that night, Lily's customary emotionless mask was crumpled and deformed as she looked accusingly at him. Her eyes were begging for something he could not quite make out. And then she screamed; a high pitched, painful wail that engulfed his senses and woke him from his painful slumber.

But the screaming did not cease, and as he found himself increasingly awake, he realized it was coming from the brat's room. Grabbing his wand in a swift movement, Snape ran out of his bedchambers and into Potter's room. But he found no intruder trying to murder her.

The girl, seemingly asleep and screaming to the top of her lungs, was convulsing in her covers and kicking the air as though it burnt her. He did not quite know how to react, at first, comfort not being something he was naturally good at.

"Potter," he started in a deep voice, hoping that it would be enough to bring the girl out of her nightmare. There was, however, no reply. Snape took an uncomfortable step in her direction and tried again. "Potter! Wake up!" But Harriet still seemed to be completely oblivious to his presence in her room and continued her torturous convulsing. "For Merlin's sake," cursed Snape as he grabbed Harriet's shoulders as he attempted to shake her awake. To his surprise, Harriet only began whimpering worse and he soon found himself being kicked, rather hard in the ribs, by the girl's knees.

"Please no…" she whimpered, tears streaming down her cheeks form her closed eyes. Snape sighted and tired one last time. "Potter, wake up!" he said in an uncharacteristically gentle voice, suddenly finding it very strange that he had uttered her name in such a manner.

Green orbs met obsidian mirrors in a confused glare before they widened in comprehension. Feeling mortified and trapped by Snape's looming body, she bolted out of bed and stood uncertainly in the corner of the room, unsure of what to do. Within seconds, Snape was on his feet, looking at the brat rather confusedly. "What is the meaning of this, Potter?" he asked in an uncharacteristically soft voice. The girl was obviously frightened, and he was certain he would not find out why if he was too abrupt.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, avoiding any eye contact. "Bad dream…" she whispered. "Didn't mean to wake you…" Harriet thought she sounded as insincere as she felt. She really did not care that she woke Snape up; but she was utterly mortified that he had to see her in her most vulnerable state. The nightmare hadn't completely left her system as flashes of Sirius falling though the veil kept intruding her visions in a sadistic replay of pain.

Snape said nothing for a moment, but continued to stare at her intently. Too intently, she thought for a moment, and, forgetting that she was not supposed to make eye contact, looked at his emotionless features, at his dark eyes. For Snape, this was the un-granted invitation he had been looking for and within seconds Harriet's mind became an open book. He saw the mutt' death being replayed far too often for the brat's health, he saw a meaningless boot cupboard, a fat man with an angry expression enveloping everything else. "No, get out!" whimpered Harriet mortified. "Please…no more…" she cried knowing there was no use in attempting to use Occlumency, for she was shamefully bad at it. To her surprise, Snape retreated after her first plead.

"Potter-" he started but was soon interrupted by a rather emotional outburst. Harriet seemed to have forgotten everything but her mortified rage at the possibility of Snape knowing her most vulnerable secrets.

"Satisfied, _Professor_?" asked Harriet accusingly, her green eyes welling up in angry tears. "…_pathetic Potter, can't even sleep without making a scene_..." she said mockingly. She wasn't sure about what Snape had seen, yet she felt more exposed than ever before his brooding figure. To her shame, bitter tears were now running down her cheeks and her face had crumpled into a sheet of raw emotions which she could not control.

"Breathe, Potter," said Snape simply, but Harriet was already worked out in a fit, her sobbing becoming more prominent by the second. She did not notice when he left the room, only to return seconds later with a phial of something red which he more or less forced down her throat. Within seconds, her sobbing quietened, her hands ceased shaking and she became composed. "What did you give me?" she asked in a small voice, looking anywhere but at his face.

"Calming Draught," he said in a deep voice. Harriet simply nodded as she sat down on her bed, unsure about what she was supposed to do with herself. But her body soon told her Snape had given her a little more than just a simple Calming Draught, as sleep overcame her and within minutes her head hit the pillow as if bewitched.

Severus Snape was not a man to be shocked easily. But as he stood there, looking at Potter's child, he felt just that. Her reaction had been extreme, and it wasn't the nightmare that intrigued him, but her mortification at the possibility of him seeing her memories. If it were not for the panic that overcame her mind, he would have insisted harder. As it was, he had no choice but to retreat from the girl's mind before he did some serious damage. He saw, for a brief second, the angry face of a fat man with an impeccable moustache and felt the girl's fear and dread. But what could possibly make Potter so afraid of her uncle? His _prejudiced opinions_, as Dumbledore had called them, suggested it was simply her cheek and arrogance that had driven her uncle to such anger. But, to his annoyance, he knew better than that. He approached the sleeping girl a little more and realized just how thin she was. Her bones were visible even through her pajama and the more he looked at her, the more he became convinced that James Potter's spawn had not been treated lavishly at home. Quite the contrary. It was true, he did not like the brat; but it was his duty, _as a teacher_, to make sure that his student's home life was not abusive. Or that was what he said to himself when Lily's grief-stricken face entered his mind.

* * *

"There will be rules, Potter. And I expect them to be followed."

Harriet nodded once, suddenly finding her knees very interesting. She wasn't quite sure what she expected after the tornado of the previous night. She found breakfast on the table that morning, and Snape sitting cross legged while reading The Daily Prophet. After a shy good morning and a curt nod on Snape's part they ate in obdurate silence.

"You will not engage in your customary lazing around, or wandering around the castle without my permission," he started in a stern voice. "You will be expected to remedy your abysmal performance in Potions before the start of term by doing extra work—"

"You're giving me _extra work_?" she asked in disbelief.

"Yes, Potter, I am giving you extra work. Now may I continue?" he asked sarcastically. "You are not to enter my bedchamber under any circumstance, unless I specifically allow you to. Your bedtime is ten during weekdays and eleven at the weekend—"

"I am not a baby!" she snapped, clearly irate at Snape's irrational idea that she would sleep so early. He simply sneered at her and said: "Then I suggest you stop acting like one. If you break the rules there will be repercussions." Harriet looked as though she may argue further, but decided against it. After all, Snape ran his classroom in a military fashion, with rules and punishments alike. Why on earth had she the impression that being in his care for the summer would be any different?

"You need to cease this customary back-retorting and learn some manners! I will not be interrupted when I speak and will not tolerate indolence. Have I made myself clear, Potter?" he asked as his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance at the girl's hateful glare.

"Yes,_ professor_," she said bitterly.

"It is also Professor Dumbledore's wish that you continue your Occlumency lessons, the first of which will be tonight after dinner. I expect some improvement this time, Potter," he said bitterly.

Harriet's stomach turned upside down in dread, as her eyes widened in fear. She would not. She could not, for if she did, Snape would see _everything._ And Snape hated her, so that could not happen. She could not allow it. A mortified "NO" escaped her lips before it had time to filter through her brain. Snape would see everything and then she would be at Snape's mercy. It simply could not happen.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked in stern voice, watching Harriet's reactions very closely.

"I will not," she said, regaining her composure a little bit. "I don't need, or want, Occlumency lessons." _With you_, she almost felt like adding.

"You do, and you will, Potter. This is not an open debate," said Snape reprovingly as Harriet's breathing fastened a pace or two. Before the professor could say anything else, Harriet jumped out of her seat and stormed out of Snape's quarters.

Snape narrowed his eyes as the door to his office slammed shut. He had deliberately told her about Occlumency last, in order to analyze her reactions. After the previous night's incident he had hoped that Potter was simply upset about her the mutt's death and was therefore overdramatic about his intrusion in her memories. It would not have been, after all, the first time the brat had been overdramatic. Her earlier scene, however, confirmed that there was something seriously wrong with Potter. Something that everyone else apparently did not notice. And because fate hated him, it was now his _duty_ to find out. He swore under his breath as he stood up from his desk.

* * *

Harriet Potter was sitting, knees drawn to her chest, in the Owlery. As she did so, she wondered why her life had to be so stupid. Probably every other sixteen-year-old she knew was spending the remainder of their summer with family and friends. _But not Harriet Potter…never Harriet Potter_, she thought bitterly as angry tears threatened to spill. Here she was, spending her last weeks of summer with Snape of all people. And if that wasn't enough of a nightmare, Snape, _who hated her_, was on the verge of finding out how her beloved relatives had been treating her.

The owls around her screeched startled as Harriet kicked an empty, broken owl cage in bitter anger. The tears were no longer caged by her dark eyelashes; they were now freely running down her cheeks. She was almost certain that Snape had seen something the previous night, something that made him want to see more. To make her feel more vulnerable than she already felt. How could Dumbledore do this to her?

It wasn't as if _any _summer with the Dursleys had been okay or even remotely normal. There had been beatings before, being locked into the minuscule boot cupboard until she could no longer physically fit, chores after chores, more beatings, bullying, name-calling, and starvation to name the least. Thinking about her most recent experiences with the Dursleys however, Harriet couldn't help but think that the previous summers had been manageable.

If only she could have stayed with her godfather. _But Sirius was dead and it was all her fault. _Sorrowful tears metamorphosed into tears of self-loathing as she stood up and started pacing around the Owlery with angry steps, kicking more broken cages and starling even more owls. She felt the anger erupting within her and the more she thought about it, the more she realized she was caught in a vicious circle. Thinking about her treatments at the hands of the Dursleys inadvertently led to Sirius falling through the veil. And then her godfather's death almost immediately led to _him_.

"Cedric…" she said his name out loud for the first time in months. "Cedric," she tried again, this time louder and surer as if she had dusted if off the first time she muttered it. She could almost see him in front of her, smiling, motioning for her to go to him. And she did, step by step, heading towards his translucent body, towards his extended hand. She almost felt like falling through thin air when—

"Potter! What do you think you're doing!?" Snape's hand had grabbed Harriet's collar, as he swiftly dragged her away from the edge of the Owlery. "Are you out of your mind?" he asked angrily as he shook her by her shoulders. Harriet's initially hazy vision refocused and she found herself looking up at the face of a very irate Potions Professor.

"I…err…"

"Do you wish to die, Potter?" His hands were still holding on to the girl's shoulders, but his voice softened a little when he took in Harriet's startled expression. The question had been brisk and for a moment, she did not know what he meant. The confusion must have been obvious in her eyes because Snape simply let go of her shoulders and motioned for Harriet to look behind her. As she did so, she realized just how close she had been to free falling to her death. "No!" she immediately said, turning her attention back to Snape. The latter gave her a calculated look before asking: "Then what were you doing so close to the edge?"

"I don't know," she admitted and hung her head down, feeling a mixture of shame and confusion.

"You don't know?" he asked incredulously, traces of anger becoming obvious in his tone. "What do you mean _you don't know_?"

"It felt like I was dreaming," she said lamely, feeling slightly odd for telling Snape this. "I didn't really know where I was going."

"Were you asleep, Potter?" he asked severely as his eyebrows furrowed in contemplation.

"I…I don't know," said Harriet for the second time, bracing herself for the lecture that she didn't doubt Snape would give. But the professor said nothing else. He simply stared at her with a mixture of intrigue and was it possible, also worry?

"Come," he commanded after a brief moment as he grabbed Harriet's arm and briskly led her out of the Owlery.

* * *

Severus Snape was a patient man. As it was, he had been sitting in front of the Potter child for half an hour and not once had she looked at him. Indeed, she had not even raised her eyes from her knees. He once again took in the girl's appearance. Her dark hair was tangled and dull, her skin an almost grey shade of pale. Her bones were visible though her baggy clothes and her eyes seemed distant and foggy. He never did pay much attention to her appearance whilst in Hogwarts, but it seemed to him now that after all, Harriet Potter may not be the arrogant, insensitive child he thought her to be. Indeed, the child before him seemed _almost_ broken.

"Why did the Blood Wards collapse, Potter?" he asked in a neutral voice. Harriet shook her head in defeat and said, in a small voice, "I don't know."

She didn't have to look at him for Snape to know that she was being untruthful. "If you lie to me, I cannot help you," he said softly.

After hearing this, Harriet did look up, incredulity eating her features. "Help me?" she asked, suddenly regaining her lost voice. "Why would you help me? You hate me!"

"I do not _hate you_, Potter," said Snape patiently.

"But you always act like you do," she said as her eyebrows furrowed in anger, her mind going back to the multiple times he picked on her in Potions class, the times he made her feel stupid and worthless.

"As I'm sure you have ascertained," he started calmly, "the student body of Hogwarts comprises of children whose parents are Death Eaters. Due to the nature of my work, I must maintain my credibility."

"Because you're a spy?" she asked daringly, giving her Potions professor a rather daring look.

"That is correct."

"So it's all an act and you are secretly fond of me?" A small, incredulous smile creped upon her face at the far-fetched possibility. It even looked like, for a mere second, even Snape found her remark amusing, as the corners of his mouth twisted into the parody of a smile.

"Fondness is a rather strong word, Potter," he said coldly and was rather startled at the fact that the girl's features darkened. He knew a joke when he heard one, and Potter had certainly been joking when asking if he was fond of her. However, her saddening features made him wonder if the girl actually _wanted him_ to be fond of her. "Why did you run away when I mentioned Occlumency?" he asked, his black obsidian eyes drilling holes into the wall Harriet was desperately trying to put between them.

The question startled the girl and soon enough green orbed stared into the black abyss of Snape's eyes. Remembering his intrusion into her mind the previous night, she quickly looked away, unsure about what to say. "I will not be performing Legilimency on you, Potter. You need not be afraid to look at me."

"But last night-"

"Last night I deemed it necessary for your safety," he said simply.

A moment of silence followed, in which Harriet returned her attention to her knees. "I ran away because I don't want to learn Occlumency," she said in a small voice.

"You are no toddler, Miss Potter. One does not run away from things simply because one does not wish to do them," said Snape in a voice that was slightly reprimanding, a fact which made Harriet's cheeks turn a bright shade of pink. She eyed him with Lily's green eyes from James Potter's face and once again Snape's features hardened as his nemesis smirked at him from beyond the grave. He pursed his lips and said nothing for a while, waiting for some sort of insight that James Potter's spawn was not as docile as she seemed in that moment.

When no words came out of Harriet's mouth, Snape continued in his customary professor-like voice. "Potter, you do realize what is at stake here, do you not? If the Dark Lord has access to your mind—"

"I don't care if he does," said Harriet in a defeated voice. "I don't care about any of this anymore. I wish he would just hurry up and kill me already."

"Potter—"

"Don't you see it?" she asked as anger swirled into her voice. She even stood up from her chair to reiterate her point. "Everyone is dying because of me! If I die, then at least he won't try to get to me through other people!" Harriet was not dangerously close to tears, but she no longer cared it was happening in front of Snape. A colossal wave of guilt had overcome her and she wished for nothing else than peaceful oblivion.


End file.
